I moved out on my own and the first thing I did was go down to a pet store in Verdun and buy a little black kitten for five bucks. I had always wanted a black cat and when I saw this one it was love at first sight. I named her Twilight (no, nothing to do with that damn movie). That cat ended up being my companion and faithful familiar for more than twenty years. One day she just lay down, looked up at me, I watched her pupils grow big and black and she died.
Ripped. My. Heart. Out. I ended up working on and finishing this painting in about two weeks while listening to The Cure (Disintigration) on a loop, consuming far too much red wine, and bawling my eyes out.
The figure is a crematorium (I had her cremated and still have her ashes which will be buried with me). This painting has a prominent place in my studio, and although I have had many offers from buyers, it will be one that I will not part with.
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